


Dress Me Up

by athena_crikey



Series: The Queen and I [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AU, Asahi is a fashion designer, Drag Queens, M/M, Noya is a drag queen, Sex Toys, but also fierce, fashion - Freeform, these two are so sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:28:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24172846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athena_crikey/pseuds/athena_crikey
Summary: Being head-over-heels for someone is something Asahi associates with high school, with the first raw, coursing surge of love that is more hormones than heart. Asahi, alone and gay in a small town, had missed out entirely on that step. Maybe this is karma, the universe circling back to dump on him the dubious privilege of a heart-rending crush well into his twenties.But… he likes it. More than that. Helovesit, loves seating Blue Thunder’s beautiful body in his lap and letting her blow his mind, loves the way Yuu draws his usually-awkward self into conversations about anything and everything. Loves handsome Yuu and beautiful Blue.
Relationships: Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu
Series: The Queen and I [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739770
Comments: 3
Kudos: 48





	Dress Me Up

**Author's Note:**

> So literally yesterday I said I didn't know if there would be more of this series. 
> 
> Apparently I don't know myself very well.

It’s only after their third date (a trip to the movies to see some action film Asahi’s never heard of) that Asahi realises he hasn’t been to Yuu’s apartment. 

It’s not an issue; he’s fine with using his place. He likes his space, likes the hominess of the stacks of fabric and lining and tissue-paper patterns, likes the smell of fabric softener and beeswax. He has almost everything there that makes him happy – and when he has Yuu there as well, he feels complete. 

He does start to wonder, though, what Yuu’s apartment must be like. As the days pass and they text each other and go out for coffee and tumble into (Asahi’s) bed together, his imagination builds a stranger and stranger vision. Pink cheetah print rug, lava lamp, extra shelving in the bathroom for Yuu’s doubtless immense collection of make-up. He imagines a disconcerting mixture of action film and volleyball posters framed on the wall – no, unframed and dog-eared; Yuu’s not the kind of guy to do matchy-matchy – pictures coloured paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling and a large bed with a faux-fur blanket. Dalmatian spots, maybe, or bright blue tiger stripes. 

But when he finally decides to ask, the bed at least goes up in smoke. “My apartment?” asks Yuu, blinking. “Sure, we can go. It’s just – I’ve got a futon. And I like fucking in a bed,” he says, simply. 

They’re out having coffee at a little place near Asahi’s apartment; Yuu’s sitting opposite from him, elbows on the table and his chin resting on his hands. He smiles easily. 

“Oh. Right. I mean – we don’t have to go. But I’d like to see it sometime. We reflect a lot of who we are into our space, and I’m still trying to figure out exactly who you are,” says Asahi.

“I _am_ pretty complicated,” agrees Yuu, taking a sip of his latte. “Okay, we’ll go. Next time, though; I’m an hour away by train.”

  
***

Next time is a windy Sunday in early February, the sky pale and the air crisp. In Miyagi there would still be snow on the ground, but here in Tokyo it’s warmer, damper. The sea air holds the humidity, wetness pervading everywhere and providing a fertile field for mould.

Yuu’s texted him his address and directions, and Asahi follows them to a two-storey building in the shadow of a raised highway. Despite the sound baffling walls on the highway, the noise of traffic is still very audible. The building itself looks like it was built not long after the war; it’s ugly and run-down, all stained concrete and metal balconies. Working retail at a pharmacy can’t possibly pay well. 

Asahi climbs the stairs to the second floor and knocks on the Yuu’s door. There’s a patter of feet, then the door is thrown open. Yuu’s standing in the small entranceway wearing a blue cable-knit sweater that’s too big for him, the wrists rolled up and the hem falling to his thighs; beneath it he has on khaki pants. The sweater has a loose turtleneck, the wool hanging open to expose the sharp line of Yuu’s pale throat. Asahi smiles. “Hi.”

“Hi! C’mon in!” Yuu heads back inside and Asahi follows him, toeing off his shoes and shutting the door. Inside it’s cold with humidity that’s permeated the outer walls and hangs heavy in the air. Somewhere inside is the hum of an electric heater, clearly insufficient to do the job. 

There’s a bathroom and washing machine beside the entryway, then in the main space a small kitchenette with a strip of linoleum. The rest of the space is tatami and holds a low table, a desk with magazines and books stuffed in the side cabinets, an immense Western-style dresser, and a dress-form made out of duct tape and a piece of PVC piping. There’s very little colour in the room; it’s sparse, mostly undecorated. None of the furniture matches, and there are no posters – action flicks, volleyball or otherwise – on the wall. 

But what Asahi really notices is the plants. They’re everywhere – Yuu’s hung them from the ceiling, has installed shelves on the walls to hold them, has put them on counters and even atop the dresser. Asahi’s not good with plants, but he can see there are ones with dangling vines, cacti, ferns, and even a small tree of some kind in a big pot. 

“I wouldn’t have pictured you with a green thumb,” he says, coming into the open space of the living area.

“I like a lot of life around me,” replies Yuu, grinning. 

Asahi admires the plants slowly, then turns his eyes to the dress-form. It’s padded into a woman’s shape but from its size Asahi can see it’s made to fit Yuu in drag. It’s currently holding a blue gown with a very asymmetrical hem line, long soft sleeves and a plunging neckline, sewn from some kind of cheap rayon-like material. It hugs the dress-form tightly, revealing every line and curve. 

“You sew?” asks Asahi, surprised.

Yuu smiles. “We all do, a bit. In my case, enough to get by. I usually have to do some alterations to the stuff I buy, or sometimes even Frankenstein two outfits together. This one, though… it’s been bugging me.”

Asahi steps over to it, considering it closely. Yuu’s right, there’s something off about it. It doesn’t hang properly, the fabric cinched up too high on the left side. “It’s this portion,” he says, pointing out a section has been sewn in as an insert to widen out the shape of the skirt. “The fabric here has been cut on the bias. That makes it lie differently. Do you have more of this fabric?”

Yuu nods.

“Then you should seam-rip it and re-do it. Or…” he glances at Yuu, hesitant. “I could do it. If you wanted me to.”

“Asahi-san…”

“I mean, I’ve got all the equipment at home, and I do it all the time so it would be pretty fast for me. But maybe you like making your own costumes…”

“Asahi-san are you, a fashion designer, offering to _make me clothes?_ ” Yuu is grinning widely. Asahi flushes.

“Well. Just fix it. A little. Not if you don’t want!”

“Oh, I want,” purrs Yuu, stepping forward to run a finger down Asahi’s chest, his amber eyes glinting.

“Don’t give me too much credit. I’m just a junior designer; I only moved up out of internship last year.”

“I’ve seen some of the things you’ve made. You’ve got real talent – and I like your style.”

Asahi blinks. “You’ve seen my work?”

“Sure. I stopped by your store and picked up some magazines. They credit the designer, you know.”

“I know, but…” He stops, flustered. He’s been so curious about Yuu, so eager to find out everything about him. It never occurred to him that Yuu might feel the same way about him. 

“But what?” asks Yuu teasingly. He pushes away from Asahi and trots over to the desk where he digs into the cubbyhole and produces a magazine whose bright orange text Asahi recognizes as his house’s publication. He flips through the shiny pages, finally coming to the one he’s looking for. “This one I really liked,” he says, coming back over and holding the magazine outstretched between his hands. 

The dress is one of Asahi’s favourites. It’s a bold mixture of plain and pizzazz, a lime-green sheath dress with puff shoulders and a thick flounce at the bottom made out of stiff triangles of chambray in all different shades of green that jut out violently. Asahi smiles. “It would look good on you.”

“Hah, I could never afford something like this. I buy my stuff in second-hand stores – you never know what you’re gonna find in them. And then sometimes I try radical surgery, but it’s a coin-toss.” He gestures at the dress-form. “Suga’s way better at sewing than I am; they give me a hand sometimes.”

“I will too,” says Asahi. “I’d like to.”

Yuu grins. “Thanks!” He puts the magazine down on the table and holds his arms up to reach around Asahi’s shoulders; Asahi bends. “Or should I thank you properly?” he murmurs, pulling Asahi tight and running his knee up between the designer’s legs, his heel raised coquettishly. 

“You make it hard to say no,” replies Asahi, and kisses him.

  
***

Asahi fixes the dress, neatening up some of the other inconsistencies in it while he’s at it. It’s a cheap, badly-made outfit, and in the ordinary course of things he would never have even touched it, but for Yuu he puts aside his pretentiousness. He’s not exactly rich himself, and he can keenly remember working with bargain-basement fabrics because they were all he could afford.

He texts Yuu to tell him he’ll bring the outfit over, then folds it carefully and packs it in tissue paper the way he would any of his creations. 

_I’m working on a number_ , replies Yuu, _would you like to see it?_

_Absolutely_ , replies Asahi, and calculates which train to catch.

  
***

Yuu lets him into his apartment wearing a bathrobe and a nylon cap, his face clean and shiny. He’s naked under the bathrobe, his waxed chest firm under the terrycloth. “Hi,” he says, letting Asahi in. And then, “I thought maybe you’d like to watch me get ready. You don’t have to – you could just chill and watch a show, but…”

“I’d love to,” says Asahi, and Yuu’s eyes crinkle into a smile. “I know a bit about make-up, but the stuff you do is really amazing. But do you really want to spend the time just for me?”

Yuu puts his hands on Asahi’s chest, leaning in. “Asahi-san, I’d do almost anything just for you,” he says, and although he’s smiling Asahi can hear the seriousness in his tone. 

It’s only been a month since they’ve been dating, and already Asahi can’t imagine his life without Yuu – or Blue Thunder. He’s never been in a relationship like this; his former boyfriends were nice people, but they were safe bets. The kind of person you would take to community theatre, or to a couples’ pottery class. Yuu is anything but safe, is a firecracker waiting to burst, is delight and wickedness wrapped up in one exquisite package. He’s everything Asahi has never dreamed of being, and the ways in which he widens Asahi’s horizons are both amazing and terrifying. 

Being head-over-heels for someone is something Asahi associates with high school, with the first raw, coursing surge of love that is more hormones than heart. Asahi, alone and gay in a small town, had missed out entirely on that step. Maybe this is karma, the universe circling back to dump on him the dubious privilege of a heart-rending crush well into his twenties. 

But… he likes it. More than that. He _loves_ it, loves seating Blue Thunder’s beautiful body in his lap and letting her blow his mind, loves the way Yuu draws his usually-awkward self into conversations about anything and everything. Loves handsome Yuu and beautiful Blue. 

As Yuu takes the package of his dress from Asahi he swallows down these emotions. It’s too early for love, too soon to stake his heart on Yuu. And yet, he thinks that at this point, it’s also too late. He’s already fallen for him.

  
***

Yuu takes him into the bathroom and seats him on the edge of the tub. He has a small fold-up stool that he sets up in front of the mirror. A pile of underwear and padding sits on the vanity; behind it there’s a narrow, tall shelving unit. From that Yuu starts pulling out bottles and compacts and brushes, laying them out one after another on the dirty-grey vanity top.

Asahi has sat in on some photo shoots and has seen models in the process of putting on and taking off their make-up. While he recognizes most of the products Yuu has laid out, he also sees a purple glue stick. He watches, intrigued, as Yuu glues down his eyebrows, combs them through, then glues them down again. It creates a smooth surface for him to layer over with concealer, hiding his dark brows. Then it’s time for the more standard process: foundation, concealer, primer. Once his skin is looking even he starts blending in contouring to accent his cheekbones and jawline, using lowlights to minimize the already narrow line of his nose. 

Then the fun begins. 

Asahi watches in amazement as Yuu pulls out eyeshadow in a bright sea-blue that matches the dress and coats it on thickly but with sharp precision. Then there’s a paler eyeshadow to accentuate the corners of his eyes, and a robin’s egg blue for the creases. He uses a pencil to re-draw his eyebrows in high arches, then pulls out an eyeliner brush, the black eyeliner going on liquid and creating the impression of huge eyes. After that he does his eyelashes, gluing thick false lashes on. Then it’s lipstick, using a liner first to create bold, full lips that he fills in with a shade of midnight blue. He turns to Asahi and blows a kiss, his lips moist, shining. 

Finally he does the wig. It’s tucked away at the back of the vanity, a chin-length cut of full, thick curls in sea-blue. He pulls it on, applying the glue, then blends the edge into his forehead. With that done he puts on his nails, long blue claws that he glues over his own. 

He’s quick at it, but the whole process still takes more than forty-five minutes, Asahi’s ass going numb on the narrow edge of the tub. But when Yuu looks over, now glamourous and gorgeous, Asahi can only smile. “You look amazing.”

“It gets better.”

He’s folded up tight panties and a pair of pantyhose on the vanity and stands. He gives Asahi a coy look over his shoulder and drops his bathrobe to the floor, exposing his strong back and the glorious curve of his ass. Yuu shaves all over and there’s no hair as he steps into the panties, bending long and supply and pulling them up seductively as Asahi watches, heart pounding. When they’re up he slips his hand inside, tucking his dick back between his legs. Then come the nylons, holding everything in place. He tucks the padding for his ass into the seat of the nylons, then puts on a padded bra. 

The dress is last. Yuu unzips it and steps in, pulling it up and zipping it shut, giving a little shake of his ass. 

Then he turns, and although Asahi’s watched the whole process unfold, suddenly Blue Thunder is standing here in front of him. She holds out her hands to Asahi, pulling him to his feet. 

“Come watch,” she purrs, low and seductive.

  
***

There’s a set of speakers on the desk in the main room that she hooks up to her phone, then scrolls through a playlist while Asahi takes a seat on a tiger-print zabuton that she obviously covered herself (he was right about the tiger-print, he thinks).

Yuu turns to face him as the track starts to play, an electronic reverb buzzing out. She stands stiff, hands in front of her face, palms towards her. She pulls them apart as the lyrics start – Stronger – her movements boxy and sharp to match the robotic tone of the song. She moves not with the litheness he’s seen from her on stage nor with the up-beat energy he expects. Her hands run down her face, then down her body, hugging her curves and pulling the wispy dress’s skirt between her legs. Her eyes are huge, moving in time to the beat, a strange robotic look. It’s at odds with the soft silhouette of her dress, but as the intensity in the song ramps up and it comes to the refrain she drops to her knees singing soulfully, movements jagged not like an automaton but like someone shuddering in the grip of emotion, on the edge of breaking down. The dress now highlights her fragility instead of contradicting her stiffness; Asahi can see the brilliance in the choice. 

She rolls her eyes and catches her lip between her teeth, a move that blasts Asahi’s memory back to the sight of her bouncing on his dick, and he feels himself getting hot even in the chill room. She reaches out to him and then snaps her hands down, hips thrusting forward violently, hungrily. She rises and spins, turning her back to him and grabbing her ass as she moves to the music, her clawed fingers digging furrows in the cheap blue rayon of the dress and plastering it against herself. Then she’s looking back and running her hands down her face again, trembling with emotion as she mouths through the refrain, her eyes wide with what looks like real pain. 

She finishes on the ground, legs bent beneath her, arms outstretched and hands fisted as if to grasp or deny something only she sees. Her hair has tumbled into her face, her expression is violent, raw. Needy. 

The track cuts out and Yuu drops her head, panting, body shaking. She looks up slowly, sweat trickling down from her hairline. 

“You just blow me away,” says Asahi honestly. “You’re so… so…” he can’t even find the words to describe the heat in his heart, the way his entire body is flushed with hunger and desire and the need to soak in all that Yuu is. “The things you do to me,” he finishes, lamely. 

Yuu rises, swaying over to him and standing above him. From this angle she crowds his field of view, is majestic, supreme. She bends, knees pressed together, ass out. “I love having your eyes on me,” she says, voice low, rough. “I love the way you look at me, I love all the dirty things I can see you thinking.”

“I,” stammers Asahi, blushing.

“I love corrupting you, Asahi-san. I want to do it all day and night, want to strut my ass for you until you break down and _beg_ me to fuck you raw.”

His heart gives a shuddering leap in his chest, his body shaking with the force of it. “Yuu…” he pants, mouth dry.

And then, suddenly, she smiles and straightens, her shadow falling away from him. “Not yet! I’m just getting started,” she says. “Unless you’re ready to beg?” she adds, throatily. 

Asahi shakes his head. 

“Then let’s try another one!”

  
***

Yuu makes it through Born This Way and It’s Raining Men before coming to Anaconda, the most ostentatiously sexual act he’s ever seen her perform. She’s strutting and shaking her ass, working her hands all the way to the ground and then running them up her legs, grabbing her skirt and raising it to the point just shy of exposure. She touches herself everywhere, licking her lips, tongue-popping as she twerks to the music.

Asahi somehow knows that this is for him – it’s not a routine for _Pretty Things_ or the drag circuit. Her needy, over-acted lasciviousness is immensely entertaining, and also immensely arousing. By the end she can’t keep in character anymore, is laughing at how camp her movements are, but when she steps too close Asahi grabs her wrist and tumbles her down into his lap, the song still playing in the background. 

“I want you,” he whispers to her, arms wrapped tight around her lithe body. 

She looks up, eyes shining, mouth wet. “Are you begging me?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he groans; she smiles.

“Alright then.” She leans up and gives him a deep, wet, captivating kiss, then leaps up and drags open the wall closet. From inside she produces her futon, throwing it down on the ground, and a basket lined with little cloth pockets holding toys, condoms and lube. “Never say I’m not ready to fuck,” she grins, crossing back over to Asahi and dragging him on his hands and knees to her bed, like a dog. He’s panting for her, his body hot, his stomach tense with arousal. 

She straddles his lap and starts kissing him, working her hands through his hair and then to his sweater. She pulls it over his head, coming up briefly for air, and then she’s kissing him deeply again, her tongue in his mouth pushing for dominance. Her nails ghost over the skin of his chest before her fingers catch the raised bud of his nipple, rubbing and tweaking it. His hands on her hips tense, pulling her down against him. But there’s not enough pressure with his pants on; she diagnoses this issue correctly and works her hands down to his waistband, undoing his pants and lifting herself off him so he can wriggle free of them. 

“I want to fuck you, Asahi-san,” she says, palming his prick through his damp underwear. “Are you okay with that?” Her eyes are careful, watchful. They’ve never done this before – it’s always been him taking her, her compact body delightful beneath his, so tight and perfect around him. 

He’s bottomed before, although not often. It’s not his favourite thing, but for her he would do anything. Already the idea of her fat prick inside him is making his heart speed. “Let’s try,” he breathes, swallowing a groan when she twists her palm over his cock. 

She looks up at him. The blue make-up gives her a cool tint, a sense of distance. “Are you sure?”

He smiles, pulling her back onto his lap. “Mm. I’ve done it before.”

“Okay. Tell me if you change your mind, though.” She rolls her hips over his, and this time the pressure is there, the amazing sensation of her body against his. She kisses his mouth, his chin, his throat, moving down his body as she shimmies backwards. His collarbone, his pec, his nipple. His abs, his navel, the waistband of his underwear. She’s on her hands and knees in front of him looking up; she pushes him back and he falls onto his elbows, allowing her to work his underwear off him. His cock is flushed and half-hard, throbbing gently. She leans in and takes him into her mouth, reaching out and grabbing a pillow with her hand and stuffing it under his ass. She finds another one, raising him higher, still bobbing wetly on his length. 

Her full attention isn’t on the task at hand and Asahi feels himself getting hard but the intensity of an impending orgasm isn’t there. She’s working him slowly while she opens a bottle of lube and pours some out onto a small dildo, just the width of one of his fingers. She smiles up at him, her dark blue lips curling around his cock, and he lets out a hungry breath. 

Yuu presses the tapered tip of the silicone dildo to his ass gently, waiting until he unclenches to slip it inside. All he feels is the pressure against the ring of muscle as she slowly works it in, her tongue licking up the underside of his cock. She slips it in and out, Asahi’s breathing steadying as he gets used to the foreign sensation. On its own it’s just tightness, a sense of fullness. But combined with her wet mouth on his prick it starts to send jagged shocks of ecstasy through him. He starts to feel good, starts to want the pressure against his ass, the sensation of the toy moving inside him. 

Just as he’s getting used to the feeling of being fucked with it she slides it all the way out, pours lube on a larger one – this less tapered, the head rounder – and pushes it inside him. 

Asahi gasps at the sudden increase in girth, his hips lifting and his cock knocking against her teeth. She pauses, looking up, but he breathes through it. “I’m okay. It’s okay. It feels good, Yuu. Just… go slow.”

“You’re doing great,” says Yuu, licking her pre-come-slicked lips and descending on him again. She’s still taking it slow, hardly working him with her mouth, just keeping up the wet warmth to make the sensation of being opened up relaxing, pleasurable. 

Soon she’s pushing the dildo deep inside him, thrusting it in to the hilt. As she moves it she’s shifting the angle; Asahi feels something tweak inside him, a sudden light clasp of pleasure. He rolls his hips, and she pushes the dildo in again, harder.

This time the throb of pleasure is unmistakable; his eyelids flutter, his body twitching. “Mmm,” moans Yuu happily, and does it again. 

Asahi’s never felt this before. It’s not white-hot surging ecstasy, but it feels good. His body relaxes, opening itself to Yuu’s touch, to the silicone prick she’s using to fuck him. The earlier uncertainty, the foreign feeling is gone, has been replaced by burgeoning need. “Yuu,” he says, fingers caught in the futon’s sheet. “Please… I want you.”

She rises up, tongue licking the length of his prick as she pulls away, leaving the dildo inside him, and then she’s shoving down her nylons and underwear. She gives her prick several long, slick pulls, her eyes dark as she takes in his debauched cock, the swell of the dildo protruding from his ass. Before meeting Yuu Asahi would have felt embarrassed, felt disadvantaged and naked and exposed, but she’s been so sweet to him and he can see how much she wants him. Can see how hard he’s making her, how eager she is for him. It makes him heady, proud. 

“Can you turn over?” she asks and he complies, on his hands and knees in front of her. An instant later she’s pulling the toy out of his ass and he moans, his body yearning for that tightness, that completion. “Mm, Asahi, so hungry for it,” she murmurs, her nails tracing the line of his hip, and then he feels the pressure of her cock pressing up against him. “Relax, babe. It’s just me.” He takes a breath and she pushes in, her prick short and fat, filling him and sliding in tightly to rut up against Asahi’s sweet spot. He gasps and bucks, Yuu’s hands tightening on his hips.

She goes slow, setting a sweet rhythm as she ruts up into him, her breathing fast but even. She feels different than the dildo, fatter, hotter, but just as good – no, better. Better because it’s her, it’s Yuu, and she’s fucking him in the dress he stitched together for her. She thrusts fully in, hips rising, and hits his prostate again, pleasure coursing through him. “ _Oh_ – Yuu – nnh…” He concentrates on breathing as she speeds her rhythm, the intensity of her thrusts. It’s not enough: he needs more, craves it. “ _Yuu_ , please,” he begs and she pounds in balls-deep and starts to grind, thrusting again and again against his sweet spot.

He’s never felt anything like this. His body is on fire, is alight with lust, with ardour, with ecstasy. Yuu’s arms are around his chest now, her body pressed against him as she seeks out her own orgasm, panting for it. Her hand travels down past his navel and finds his cock and Asahi cries out as she starts to stroke him. It’s too much, too much pleasure for flesh and blood, his body opening itself to her even as she runs her hand down to clasp his balls. He’s coming apart, his orgasm tearing him seam from seam, ruining him. He groans and comes, spilling onto the sheet. Yuu keeps thrusting through the orgasm, driving it out of him, pounding every ounce of pleasure from him. But when it’s finished Asahi grows tender and uncomfortable quickly, drooping and dragging in rough breaths, and she slows and pulls out. He drops to the futon, arms and legs exhausted, and turns to watch as she pulls the condom off.

Yuu’s still hard, her dress hitched up about her hips, her cock flushed and swollen. She starts stroking herself, eyes shuttered, hips rocking against her hand. Asahi, abs on fire, turns over again onto his stomach and comes around until he’s facing her. 

“Asahi…”

“Let me,” he whispers, and pushing her hand away licks down onto her cock. She tastes of salt and lube and plastic, a strange mix of tastes, but she moans when he starts sucking. She wants it rough, he knows, is near completion and not in any state for sweet suckling. He bobs his head, hands on her knees, spreading her legs, tongue working fiercely over the head of her cock, along the slit. 

“Mmph!” Her fingers tighten in his hair and then she’s coming, coating the back of his throat in her seed. Asahi swallows her down, keeping his mouth on her until her fingers relax, then looking up. 

She’s panting, mouth open, amber eyes honey-dull with pleasure. He pulls her down to lie against him, cold and damp and growing uncomfortable but right now so hungry for closeness. 

“You complete me,” he whispers to her, his hand pressed tight against the firmness of her abdomen. 

“I’m completely what?” she replies, mishearing, her foot tracing the line of his calf. 

“No; you complete me,” he says again, louder. 

She rolls over, looking up into his face. “Really?”

He nods. “When I’m with you, I’m so much more than I’ve ever been.”

She blinks, then smiles. “When I’m with you, I’m so much _better_ than I’ve ever been.” She reaches down and finds his hands, bringing them up to her mouth to kiss each one with her midnight-blue lips. “Will you stay?”

“The night?” he asks, uncertain what she means. 

“Much longer than that,” she says, softly. 

Asahi’s heart thrums softly in his chest. “I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.”

“Asahi-san, I don’t think I could ever give you up. So I hope you’re ready for the long haul.” She kisses his lips, then shivers theatrically. “But for now – how about a shower?”

“Together?” asks Asahi, smiling. 

She grins. “Mm – definitely!”

END


End file.
